Get Up, Get Up, Get Up
by BoothGirlForever
Summary: He knows her better than anyone else. No spoilers.


**Had this thought the other day, and couldn't get rid of it. Plays into my absolute conviction that in the end, it is always her, and always him. Together. Not a song fic, but the song "Get Up" by Barcelona was perfect for the mood of this story. It kept playing in my head as I wrote. Have a listen if you get a chance; it's a good song.**

**No real spoilers. Christine is about 7 in this story. Another very short little piece.**

"It's a nice day."

There was a vague surprise in her voice that disturbed him. Shrugging his suit jacket onto his shoulders, he moved behind her, setting his hand carefully, gently, on her shoulder. "That's a good thing, right?"

"I suppose so." She stood, straight and tall and motionless, staring out the picture window at the golden morning sunshine. "It will certainly be less problematic, logistically."

Distant. So very practical and quiet and distant. He forced the stress out of his voice and continued. "It is a good thing, Bones. No one wants a downpour on a day like this." When she didn't respond, he slid his fingers down her arm to grasp her hand. "We should probably get going."

"Okay." She turned, located her bag and the folder with all the items she would need for later. "Is Christine ready?"

"Yep. Her overnight bag is packed, so we can drop her off later this afternoon." His eyes followed her as she moved about the room; tracking her endlessly. "She's looking forward to her sleepover." A moment's pause and he continued, more tentatively. "Are you sure you're okay with her going? Under the circumstances, we could reschedule."

"No. She's been excited about this party weekend for quite some time." She slipped her feet into her low-heeled pumps and tiredly shouldered her things, avoiding his worried brown eyes. "I want her to have a good ending to the day."

A clatter of little feet signaled Christine's approach, her bag thumping on the stairs behind her. They automatically snapped into motion, Booth grabbing Christine's coat and Brennan making one last check of the small container of cupcakes going to the slumber party. With a small sigh, she snapped the lid closed and faced her family. "It's time to go."

* * *

People milled aimlessly about, their reason for gathering now over. For a moment, Angela watched Booth watch Brennan, and then walked to his side. "Has she said anything to you?"

"No." Lines of concern carved into his face, Booth continued to follow her movements as she spoke with an older woman. "Not much." His mouth firmed slightly, and when he spoke next, it was with more determination. "Not yet."

"Do you want me to take Christine for the night? She always enjoys sleeping over with us."

He smiled; a tired, small smile. "No, thanks, though, Angela. Bones wants her to go to that party. Said she wanted her day to end well." His eyes shifted momentarily to where Christine was dragging Jack across the grass in pursuit of a butterfly. "She's doing okay, though."

"Does she actually realize what's happening?"

"I don't think so." He shrugged, shoved his hands in his pockets. "I sugar-coated it pretty well. But kids get stuff, even when you think they don't."

"Well, you call if you need anything." Her hand on his arm squeezed tightly. "Anything at all."

His gaze already refocused on his wife, he nodded absently. "Will do."

* * *

Putting the truck into gear, he waved one last time at their curly-headed daughter as she careened into the house behind three other girls and slowly pulled away, carefully avoiding the balloons and party signs. "She's going to have a lot of fun. Diane and Michael always throw one hell of a kid's party."

She nodded, eyes trained out the window.

"You hungry?" When she didn't respond, he cautiously continued. "You didn't eat much today. I can stop and grab something, if you want."

"No. Thank you. I'm not hungry." The setting sun highlighted the red in her hair and lit up her beautiful, frozen face. "Are we going home?"

"Yeah, Bones." Pressing down on the gas pedal, he swung the truck around a corner and headed north. "Yeah. We're going home."

* * *

She stood just inside the front door, quiet and motionless. He moved casually past her. "I'm going to grab a sandwich. If you change your mind, let me know. I'll make you one, too." Without waiting for a response, he headed for the kitchen, dumping his keys on the counter and his jacket on a stool. Two plates, two napkins. Four slices of bread. He gave her a glance and got to work, building a meal for two. When he was done, he grabbed a plate and dropped onto the empty stool. For several minutes there was no sound, and he ate in silence.

"Booth."

At the sound of her voice, he froze, then quickly stood, sliding everything into the fridge before turning to her.

She stood at the couch, eyes only on him.

He was in front of her in an instant. Her trembling fingers twisted and clenched until he caught them in his, stepping as close as possible. "Yeah, Bones?"

The slightest of leans and she buried her face in his neck, shoving herself desperately against him. He gathered her close and dropped to the couch, pulling her onto his lap.

Her arms locked around his waist. "My dad died."

"I know, Bones." Her body shuddered, her silent sobs shaking her, and he shut his eyes and held her tighter. "I know."

Outside, cars passed, and streetlights winked on. The light faded and disappeared, and the night sounds rose.

**I really hope you enjoyed this. Thanks for taking the time to read.**


End file.
